


Don't Hold Back

by Beeba



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Confident Peter Parker, Dirty Dancing, Identity Reveal, Insecure Wade Wilson, M/M, Mercenary Wade Wilson, Pole Dancing, Rich Wade Wilson, Secret Identity, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:09:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29430060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beeba/pseuds/Beeba
Summary: The stripper rose to a stand, bare feet tapping towards Wade’s chair. Wade kept still, absorbing each step, eyes devouring every swish of the dancer's thin hips.“So babe,” Angel chanted. “Ready for your dance?”----------------------------------------------------------------------Wade's mercenary work takes him to a strip club.Peter gets a suspicious new customer.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 63





	1. (Peter) The Newcomer

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!
> 
> I was perusing my files and noticed this old fic. I dunno when I'm going to add to it, but I figured you would enjoy what I have so far.
> 
> READING INSTRUCTIONS:
> 
> You get to choose the story's perspective (Wade's or Peter's). The different perspectives provide a slightly different story.
> 
> OR, you can read both perspectives. :)

He spun, legs extended, toes pointed.

As he did, he counted the heads in the room, calculating his tip as he spread his thighs wider.

The cheers were encouraging. It would be a good night.

Peter curled himself against his pole and slowed his spin, safely landing on the neon-lit glass under his bare feet. His regulars applauded as the DJ played his outro music. Another successful dance.

He waved to the customers that filled the small club and bowed, making sure to show off everything his red thong didn’t. Anything to add to his tips.

Peter lifted his head, ready to step off stage when something caught his attention.

A newcomer. By the bar.

The man hugged the shadow of the space, farthest from the stage and yet, the most attentive. Under his dark cap and hood, the man was watching hard, staring at Peter’s face, studying his eyes. He clapped, slowly, his wide smile apparent from across the room.

Was he mocking?

Peter smirked, then gave him a wink. What did it matter? As long as he tipped, right?

The dancer descended his stage, forcing a smile as he collected his earning from the old geezers in the room.

“Thanks, babe” he flirted, taking a ten. “Aww!” he giggled, collecting a few fives. “You’re so sweet!” as he slipped a twenty under his thong.

He was right. The more intricate the dance, the better his regulars paid. Practice was paying off.

Now for the newcomer.

Peter glanced his way; he still had his attention. He stepped across the room, biting the edge of his lip. As he moved closer, he felt his senses trigger.

This man was armed. A gun…on his hip…hidden beneath his large hoodie. So much for security. Still, the dancer was determined for his tip, fluttering his eyes, making an active attempt not to look at the weapon.

The man sipped his drink, expression hidden behind the glass.

“Hey stranger” Peter chirped, pitching his voice. “Never seen you here before.”

The man set his drink down, revealing a face full of scars that hadn’t been noticeable across the room. A burn victim…

Peter maintained his smile, focused on his eyes.

“I’m new to town” the man answered, slipping a hand in his pocket.

Peter hummed. “Well I’m glad you stopped by, babe” he flirted. His eyes flicked down once the stranger’s hand reemerged with a wallet.

“You’re very talented” the man complimented, redirecting Peter’s eyes to his. Peter forced a wider smile.

“Aw, you’re so sweet!” he chirped, bored of the flirty semantics. How much money would he give?

“You deserve more than what I have on me” the stranger added. Peter curled his fingers against his hip, reading the message behind the words.

A broke dick. Fabulous.

The stranger rummaged through his wallet, then pulled out a bill. Peter cut his eyes to the money, and nearly broke character.

“Oh…uh…” he started, then quickly snapped back. “Aww! Babe!” he chirped, collecting his hundred. “You’re the best” he giggled.

The man smiled back.

“You, too.”

Securing his money in the string of his thong, he took a step closer.

“That was my last dance tonight,” he started, fluttering his eyes. “Will I…see you again, babe?”

The stranger smiled, stuffing his wallet in his pocket. “Sure will.”


	2. (Wade) The Dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade's perspective.

Wade stepped in the club, ducking into the dark air and neon strobes.

The music was loud, thumping his chest, ringing his ears. He fucking hated clubs.

He reached up and tugged on his cap, keeping it secure. Even in the dark, it was hard to be in public without the mask. Fortunately, there weren’t many customers, and those who were kept their eyes on the dancer on stage. He could relax, for the moment.

Now. Where was that target?

Wade made his way to the bar, keeping to the shadows. He ordered a drink and scanned the room, looking for the oldest fart there. He had to be here somewhere. He came here every Saturday, according to his victim.

Jobs like these were Wade’s favorite. Who wouldn’t want to kill a predator? Especially the ones who slip through the cracks of the justice system. Money was all it took for his target to get off the hook. Today, it would be his downfall.

When his drink came, Wade took a sip, cringing at the cheap alcohol muddled under the sugary mixer. God, he hated clubs. The sooner he finished, the better…

He made a hard scan of the room, looking at every distracted customer’s face.

There.

In the front.

The stage lights illuminated the target. He was entranced by the dancer, and it was easy to see why.

The stripper was young, slender, with brown hair.

Just like his victim.

Wade tucked his hand against his side, feeling the butt of his gun. It’d be easy to end him from here. Pop off a few rounds, finish his disgusting drink, and leave. It was a quick job. An easy kill.

Except. The dancer.

Wade glanced again, all focus lost.

That body.

He _knew_ that body. 

Why was it so familiar? Had he seen him somewhere before?

Wade scanned his face, searching the files of his memory for a connection. He was sure he’d never seen the guy before, and yet…his figure, the elegant way he moved, his sensual flexibility, that _ass_ …why did Wade know it?

Seconds ticked by. As he watched the stripper swing, it slowly started to click.

“No fuckin’ way…” he smirked, moving his hand off the gun to cross his arms. 

“Give it up for _Angel_!” the DJ announced as Spider-man descended his pole.

Angel.

Well, the name certainly fit.

Angel waved to his audience and bowed, happily accepting the cheers and hoots he was adorned with. Wade clapped along, too, smiling through his disappointment. It was a shame he hadn’t paid attention to the full performance.

Angel glanced up, looking in the merc’s direction. Wade continued to clap, watching the hero’s eyes.

Could he sense the gun?

Angel smiled and winked his way, much to Wade’s delight. Guess not.

The hero descended his stage and collected his earnings from his clientele, none the wiser to the snake that handed him a twenty. The sight twisted Wade’s stomach. How many dances did Angel perform for that monster? How much money had they exchanged?

Fortunately, Wade was there to put an end to it.

As Angel made his rounds across the room, he glanced Wade’s way again. Fuck.

Wade grabbed his drink, quickly realizing he was next to shell out a tip.

The hero sashayed across the room, walking as elegantly as he danced. Wade sucked down the last of the concoction, hoping it would help calm him the fuck down.

“Hey stranger” Angel sung. “Never seen you here before.”

Wade slowly lowered his glass, praying the dark room would help conceal his scars. To his relief, Angel didn’t seem to notice. He watched his eyes, smiling at the merc in blissful ignorance.

Wade smiled back, feeling his shoulders relax.

“I’m new to town” he lied, reaching for the wallet in his pocket.

“Well I’m glad you stopped by, babe.”

Wade could feel his grin stretch the scars on his cheeks. Spider sure knew how to get his tip.

“You’re very talented” the merc added.

“Aw! You’re so sweet!” Angel squeaked, still seemingly unaware. Was he pretending not to notice the gun?

Wade played along. He flicked his wallet open and rummaged through his bills.

“You deserve more than what I have on me.” A hundred would be enough. For now.

He pulled out the bill and handed it to the dancer, enjoying the look on his face when he saw it.

Interesting. Another with a fascination with money.

Looks like they had more in common than he first thought.

Angel broke out of his stupor and grinned happily. “Aww! Babe!” he squealed, taking the money and stuffing it under his thong. “You’re the best!”

“You, too.”

“That was my last dance tonight” Angel started, inching closer. “Will I…see you again, babe?”

Wade stifled a chuckle and simply smiled.

“Sure will” he said. Right after he dealt with his target.


	3. (Peter) Dark Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter's perspective.

Saturday night.

The crowd was thin.

Peter peered through the stage curtains, frowning at the numbers he saw. It was almost pointless to dance. Most of his regulars were no shows. And those who were there looked as uncomfortable as Peter felt.

Who could blame them?

It had been a week since the old man died. The club did its best to keep it all under wraps. But that didn’t stop the media from spilling the details.

There was a murder in the club’s parking lot.

Peter’s regular.

Shot once between the eyes. And again in the chest.

It turned Peter’s gut. The man died just a few hours after Peter left. For the hero to be so close, and be unable to stop it…

Peter tucked back behind the curtains and took a deep breath. He couldn’t get worked up before a performance. There was nothing he could do about it now. But he’d get to the bottom of it once he got off work…

Starting with the new guy.

The one with the scars…

…the one who brought a gun to the club the night of the murder…

And the one who once again sat by the bar with a drink, veiled by shadows.

The DJ announced his stage name over the speakers. Curtains flew open.

Peter smiled through his discomfort and posed for the litter of customers in the room.

With nothing but a pink thong, the stripper strutted towards his pole, cutting his eyes towards the man at the bar. His smile was just as wide as last week.

Peter started his routine, grabbing the silver rod and circling it. As the music picked up, he jumped, climbing his pole and wrapping his legs around it.

The music guided him as he danced, swinging to the beat, posing as he did.

Pole dancing was easy…a little too easy…for the hero to master. The hardest part was making it look like work.

He had to keep it slow. Natural. Human.

As he spun, he scanned the room, gauging the response. Out of the handful of attendees, only a few paid attention. Not surprising. They weren’t Peter’s customers.

At least the new guy watched. As suspicious as he was, he tipped. Well.

As the music concluded, he glided to the ground and made a final pose, smiling at the few customers who clapped. He glanced up to the mystery man at the bar, noting his applause.

Peter descended the stage, making way for the next dancer. He went around the room, collecting a few singles and a five.

When he finished with the broke dicks, he made his way to the new guy, sporting a smile. He approached, slowly, studying his senses. Unlike last time, he didn’t feel the presence of a weapon.

“Good job, Angel” the man smiled, reaching into his pocket.

“Thanks, babe!” Peter chirped, throwing a hand on his hip. “I’m glad to see you again.”

The man never broke eye contact as he pulled his wallet out, fiddling with his bills.

“I came prepared this time.”

Peter cut his eyes down and stilled. Was that a stack of _hundreds_?

“Here, sweetheart” the man offered, plucking a few bills and handing them over.

Peter forced a smile, a twinge of discomfort growing in his core as he accepted the three bills.

This guy wasn’t normal…

Most customers weren’t, but there was something more to this one…

To carry so much cash…was he a criminal?

Drug lord? Crime boss?

Was this blood money?

“Ah, I meant to ask you…” the man started, pulling Peter’s attention back to his eyes. “Do you do…private dances?”

Peter blinked.

“Oh, well we have VIP rooms” he explained, motioning to the far side of the club. “$100 a dance. Just you and me.”

The man cut his eyes to the rooms, twisting his mouth in thought.

“Yeah” he answered, smiling at the dancer. “Let’s do it.”

Peter smiled back, unsure if he should be excited or nervous.

He’d never done a private dance before.

But according to some of his co-workers, those rooms weren’t really for dancing…

Peter reached out and took the man’s hand, reeling him from his barstool. He looked him in the eye, serious.

“I only dance…okay, babe?” he added, ensuring the man wouldn’t ask for more.

Fortunately, they were on the same page. The man tilted his head and smiled sweetly.

“Yes, Angel. Just dancing.”


	4. (Wade) More Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade's perspective.

Chapter 2: (Wade) More Money

It was a shame.

Wade scanned the room, counting the customers present.

The club was nearly empty. No surprise after what he’d done the week prior.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ended the target in the parking lot. He should’ve known killing him there would give the club a bad rap.

But hell. The opportunity was there. And he couldn’t pass up an easy hit.

Wade stepped deeper inside, tugging on his cap and adjusting his hoodie as he walked in the club’s shadows. He sat at the far end of the bar and ordered a beer from the bartender, probably the safest drink on the menu.

“Hey, Angel’s here tonight?” he asked as the bartender popped the cap of his bottle.

The man slid the beer Wade’s way.

“Yeah, think he’s up next.”

The merc smiled, then turned his eyes to the empty stage. He shouldn’t have been so happy to throw money away. But as far as he knew, no one else seemed to know what he did about Angel.

All the more exciting.

A few minutes passed before the DJ announced Angel’s name.

Curtains flew open.

Wade leaned forward as Angel swayed on stage, sporting nothing but a bright pink thong. The hero glanced Wade’s way and smiled, brewing butterflies in his gut.

Adorable.

The dancer jumped on his pole and swung, extending his legs and spreading his thighs for the world to see. He was slow, steady, carefully concealing the true power of his body. As graceful as he was, Wade could tell the man made great efforts to hold back.

There was no denying it. That _was_ Spider-man.

Wade studied the performance, watching him take command of his stage.

Wade’s imagination went wild.

How would Angel look on a pole in his Spider-suit?

How would he dance without restraint?

How would he dance for Deadpool?

The stripper glided to the stage floor as his dance ended. Wade clapped, noting the minimal reaction from the rest of the crowd.

Good. Less competition for Angel’s attention.

He watched on as the hero walked around the room, collecting meager tips from the half-attentive audience. Even through his smile, Angel’s disappointment was obvious.

An easy fix.

Angel’s eyes cut Wade’s way, and Wade smiled.

The stripper approached, studying the merc. Still suspicious, no doubt. Even unarmed, Wade still made him uneasy.

Maybe a tip would help.

“Good job, Angel” Wade complimented, reaching into his pocket.

“Thanks, babe” he chirped, “I’m glad to see you again.”

“I came prepared this time” the merc said as he pulled his wallet out.

Most of the money he brought was for show. At least that was the plan.

He watched Angel’s expression as he opened his wallet, purposely exposing the bundle of bills he stuffed inside.

The reaction on Angel’s face was worth the whole stack. But the merc restrained himself, handing $300 instead.

“Here, sweetheart” he said, raising it higher with Angel hesitated. The dancer took it, still fixated on the bills in his wallet.

Looks like he wanted more…

“I meant to ask you…” Wade started, capturing Angel’s attention back to his eyes. “Do you do…private dances?”

“Oh…” Angel started, pulling his shoulder back, returning to character. “…well we have VIP rooms” he said, waving to the far end of the club. “$100 a dance. Just you and me.”

Wade glanced to the rooms, smirking. Just the two of them. Perfect.

“Yeah” Wade answered, concealing his excitement. “Let’s do it.”

Angel smiled excitedly, taking Wade’s free hand. He pulled him from his chair and led him towards the rooms, only to stop midway. He turned to face him, suddenly serious.

“I _only_ dance” his affirmed, squeezing Wade’s hand. “…okay, babe?”

But Wade only smiled, hearing his unspoken rule. At least for tonight, he’d keep his hands to himself…

“Yes, Angel” he smiled. “Just dancing.”


	5. (Peter) The VIP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter's perspective.

Peter stepped in the VIP room, reeling his customer inside by his hand.

The space was small and intimate; there was a stage and pole in the center, littered by a few velvet chairs. Peter flicked the light switch, igniting the bright red stage lights and illuminating the room.

“Did you want a drink, babe?” Peter offered, closing the door, noting the man had left his beer behind.

The customer shook his head.

“Did _you_ want one?” he countered.

Peter giggled back.

“Not on the job” he rejected softly. Peter released the customer’s hand and strolled deeper in the room, feeling the man’s eyes follow.

“Then after work?” the man persisted.

Peter glanced back, smirking.

“Have a seat, mister.”

Grinning, the man stepped deeper inside, scanning the area. He stepped to the chair closest to the stage and plopped down, turning his eyes to Peter’s.

“You look good in red.”

Peter giggled again. The guy had no idea…

The dancer stepped forward and took a seat on the edge of the stage, in front of his customer.

Peter kept his smile, noting the opportunity. Now that they were alone, he could learn a little more about his customer…the suspect.

“So you’re new to town” Peter started, “Where from?” he asked innocently.

“I travel for work, so I’m all over really. But I was born in Canada.”

Peter leaned forward.

“Really? That’s so cool! And what do you do…if you don’t mind me asking.”

The man smirked, then casually shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m in the retirement business.”

“Oh…neat!” Peter smiled through his discomfort. He didn’t like that answer. It was misleading…guarded…and didn’t explain the large wad of cash the man carried.

But Peter didn’t push it. No crime boss would openly admit to what they do. He’d have to find another way…later. For now, he had to get through this dance—

“And you?” the man asked back. “Do you dance full time?”

“Nope! Just Saturdays.”

Peter rose from the stage and stepped forward, approaching his customer.

He could sense the man grow tense in his seat. Peter smiled, kneeling on the chair to straddle the man’s lap.

“So babe, ready for your dance?” he said, batting his eyes.

The man shifted in his chair, balling his fists in his lap.

“Yeah” he answered, almost whispering. “But…”

Peter tilted his head. “But?”

“Can I…see you up there first?” he said, nodding to the stage.

The dancer glanced back, then turned to his customer.

“On the pole?”

The man smiled sheepishly. “Please?”

Peter didn’t argue. Each dance meant more money, right?

He jumped off the chair and made his way to the stage. He stepped up, watching his customer’s gaze follow him to the pole. The hum of music on the main floor guided him as he circled the rod.

The man leaned forward, entranced in Peter’s spell. Peter climbed the pole, hugging it with his thighs as he spun.

Again, he was careful, keeping his routine slow and simple. As he spun, he kept his eye on the suspect, watching him stare. His grin grew wider each pose Peter offered, even clapping when the dancer held himself upside down.

“Beautiful…” he’d murmur. “Amazing…” he’d say. Peter couldn’t help but smile. Suspect or not, the man’s compliments were…nice…to hear.

The song ended, and Peter posed, hand on his hip with the other in the air.

His VIP leaned back in his chair and applauded.

“Very good” he said. “You’re so talented.”

“Aww! Thanks mister!”

As Peter hopped off the stage, he heard the man say something.

“Hm?” he asked as he approached the chair.

“…Wade” he mumbled. “…my name is Wade.”

Peter blinked, then smiled.

“Wade” he repeated, much to his customer’s delight. Whether or not it was true was still up for debate, but either way, it worked in Peter’s favor. This person…Wade…was becoming comfortable enough to share information. Which meant he’d be open to sharing more.

All Peter had to do was entertain.

He smiled, then leaned forward.

“How about another dance?”


	6. (Wade) The Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade's perspective.

Wade tried to play it cool when Angel took his hand and pulled him to the room.

He did his best not to watch his thonged ass walk, but damn, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t peek. By the time he looked up, they were there. The VIP room. They stepped inside and Wade scanned the room, nodding in approval.

A stage and pole sat at the center of the room, surrounded by a few cheap, velvet chairs. Other than that, the room was simple. Quiet.

And best of all, secluded. He had Angel all to himself…

After shutting the door, Angel stepped off to hit the lights, flooding the stage with red lights.

“Did you want a drink, babe?” Angel offered, closing the door, consummating their solitude.

Wade shook his head.

“Did you want one?” he offered.

Angel giggled in return, rattling butterflied in Wade’s gut. Cute…

“Not on the job” Angel returned.

“Then, after work?”

The dancer smirked, a silent decline.

“Have a seat, mister.”

Wade stepped deeper inside, grin wide on his face, and sat in one of the chairs by the stage. He watched his entertainments glide across the room, brown eyes looking him over like prey. Crimson light adorned his small frame, reflecting off his perfect skin. He almost didn’t look real.

“You look good in red” Wade whispered, earning a giggle from his dancer.

Angel stepped closer, finding a seat on the edge of the stage.

“So…” the brunette started. “You’re new in town. Where from?”

Wade leaned back in his chair, pulling himself from the fantasy. This was still Spider-man. He had to be careful with his answers…

Or…maybe not.

It wouldn’t hurt to spark his suspicions a little…hold his interest, even after work…

“I travel for work, so I’m all over really” he answered honestly. “But I was born in Canada.”

Angel leaned forward, eyes so focused it summoned a twinge in Wade’s groin. Fucking gorgeous…

“Really? That’s so cool!” Angel elated. “And what do you do…if you don’t mind me asking.”

Wade smirked. Just as he thought. This was an interrogation.

The merc played it cool, casually shrugging his shoulders.

“I'm in the retirement business.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, just for a moment, before he returned to character and smiled. Success. Curiosity sparked.

Angel wouldn’t linger on the subject. The stripper rose to a stand, bare feet tapping towards Wade’s chair. Wade kept still, absorbed every step, eyes devouring every swish of his thin hips.

Wade held his breath, Angel’s body crawling into his chair, straddling his hips, dangerously close to the bulge in his pants.

“So babe,” his voice chanted. “Ready for your dance?”

Wade sucked in a deep breath. He knew he agreed to just ask for dances, but…having him this close…feeling the warmth of his skin…would a dance be enough?

The man shifted in his chair, summoning all his power to keep his hands in his lap.

“Yeah…” he breathed, but cut his eyes past the dancer, reminded of the stage. The reason he’d come. “But…”

Angel tilted his head. “But?”

“Can I…see you up there first?” he said, nodding to the stage.

The dancer glanced back, then turned to Wade for confirmation.

“On the pole?”

Wade smiled. “Please?”

Angel smiled, giving him a passing look as he retreated off the chair. Wade let out a shaky breath, thanking the heavens for his self-control. His dancer ascended the stage, prowling around the silver rod to the thump of the music, giving Wade full access to the entirety of his frame.

Even with a single customer, Angel was laser focused. Every step was made with intent. His piercing brown eyes fixated on the other man. Even his walk was enough to command Wade’s attention. He jumped, climbing to the center of his rod, body rotating it with ease. His figure rolled and twisted around the pole, twirling for Wade’s eyes, working for the attention.

“Beautiful…” Wade labeled. “Amazing…” he whispered at an intricate twist.

But as entertaining as it was, it wasn’t enough. Even alone, Spider-man was holding back. He was hiding the extent of his flexibility, diluting his true power.

Wade wanted to see the truth…Angel’s body in full action…unrestrained by his job’s atmosphere.

The song in the air ended too soon, and Angel descended to his feet, landing perfectly and posing for his client.

Wade grinned, leaned back in his chair and applauded through the twinge of disappointment.

“Very good” he cheered. “You’re so talented.”

Angel pressed his hand against his chest, smiling at the compliment.

“Aw, thanks mister” he chirped, hopping off stage. Mister…

“…Wade…” the merc whispered. Angel looked his way, eyes asking for clarity. “Wade” he said again. “My name is Wade.”

Angel’s lips curled into a smile.

“Wade…” his voice chimed, stealing a heartbeat. “How ‘bout another dance?”


End file.
